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GEORGETOWN NEWS. X WEEKLY NEWSPAPER, PUBLISHED E\ EKY THURS DAY MORNING by P»latt cfc Sliaw, Office, Main St., nearly opposite Masonic Hall. TKJtM m JXVAKIVIU.V I.V AWVA.NGK. Per one year $.5 00 For six months 3 00 For three months 2 00 Rates of Advertising. For first insertion of 1 square, or 10 lines. .$3 00 For each subsequent insertion I 50 Libt ral deductions for quarterly advertisements. BUSINESS CARDS. Wm. Ewing, Attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office at Lower Johutown, El Dorado Co., Cal. November 12th, 1855. [3-4t* P RODGER, J. C. Manufacturer of all kinds of Jewelry, Maiden Lane, Georgetown, two doors south of J. J. Lewis’ Bowling Saloon. November Ist, 1855. [2-tf. Ca-3TfA.l3.gVm. Co., (BRANCH OF GRAHAM A CO. GEORGETOWN.) MAIN STREET, BOTTLE HILL. Dealers in Groceries, Provisions, Cigars, Li quors, §-c. The highest price paid at all times for Gold Dust. Bottle Hill, April 23d, 1855. [2B-tf Xj. O. HeyL>-urn, Justice of the Peace. OFFICE on Church st.. head of Maiden Lane, one door south of Bolleu A Ritter’s Gun and Blacksmith establishment. Office open every day of the week from 9 to 4 o'clock; Sunday ezcpted. Georgetown, May 24th, 1855. [32-tf. DRAGOO, DR- M, J., late of Johntown, would inform the citizens of Bottle Hill that hav ing permanently located in that place, he would respectfully tender to them his professional ser vices as Surgeon and Physician. Bottle Hill, Dec. 15 1854. 9-tf II AY, DR. F. G., Main street, Georgetown.— Office opposite Adams & Co. Oct. 26,1854. 2-tf WELLS, FARGO & CO., Express Agents, Gold Dust Shippers, and Bankers, George town. [See advertisement.] 2-tf X. O. of O. ZE». Weiovnto I.otlge, No. 37, Institu ted, March 22nd, 1855. Meets on Thursday of each week, at the Ma sonic Hall, at 7 o’clock, P. M. Transient Brothers, in good standing, are cor dially invited to attend. J. J. LEWIS, N. G. S. Knox, Sec’y. A S. of T— Georgetown Division, No. 42. > f Sons of Temperance, meets every Tues day evening, at 7 o’clock, in their Hall on Main street, Georgetown. All brethren in good standing are invited to at tend. WM. T. GIBBS, W. P. J. T. Noel, R. S. Divine Worship. Rrv. DAVID McCLURE, of the Presbytery of San Francisco, preaches every Sabbath morning and evening in the Town Hall, Georgetown. Ser vices commencing at o'clock A. M., and 8 P. M. A 1 o, every Sabbath afternoon at Bottle Hill, at 3 o'clock. Prayer meeting at the Par sonage on Wednesday evenings. Public Worship. There will be preaching at the Town Hall, every Thursday evening, at 7 o'clock, P. M.; al so upon every other Sabbath, 8 at o’clock, P. M. by Rev. R. R. Bkookshiek, of the Methodist E piscopal Church South. Public Worship.—At the School House, Georgetown- Regular appointments of Rev. Jno. Sharp, of M. E. Church, 10£ A. M. and 7 P. M., every Sabbath. Occasional supplies by other Ministers. Prayer meetings, Wednesday even ings at 7 P. M. Sabbath School 9J A. M. California Slap s Company IVoticc. T AGES for Sacramento City, leave the “Nevada House,” s=Se~SaSs Georgetown, every morning, at three o'clock, A. M., and the “ Buckeye Exchange,” Greenwood Valley, at four o’clock, A. M., arriving in Sacra mento in time to connect with the steamboats for Ban Francisco. J. HAWORTH, Pres. Cal. S. Co. Per M. A. MERCHANT, Agent March 28th, 1855. [24-tf. ACCOMMODATION Stage Ijin© POTTLE HILL TO COLOMA. THE subscriber having extended his Line to Bottle Hill, will run a four-horse coach dai ly between the above places, via of Georgetown and Johntown. Leaving Bottle Hill at 6| o’clock A. M., arriv ing at Coloma at 10 o’clock A. M. Returning, will leave Coloma at 3 o’clock, P M., arriving at Bottle Hill at 0 o’clock P. M. Having run a line of stages for the past two years and a half between Georgetown and Colo nia.the undersigned feels confident that in ex lending his line to Bottle Hill, he can offer such accommodations as to merit the patronage of the Public. ROBERT ELLIS. June 27th, 1855. [37-tf. Books & Stationery. A Literary Depot, is opened by the umb Ma ' m Street - Bottle Hill, at whit HOOKS, MAGAZINES and NEWSPAPERS «very variety, and of the latest date, can be h upon application. JAMISON & CALDWELL. Bottle Hill, April 18th, 1855. [27-tf. Turning lathe, —The undersigned be leave to inform the citizens of Grorgetoi lOat he is prepared to do all kinds of Turning v “ e best manner and at the shortest notice. ° n , M. A. WOODSIDE Gorgetowa, Oct 19,1854. HI GEORGETOWN, EL DORADO COUNTY, CAL., DEC. 6. 1855. To tlie Past. BY WM. CULLEN BUTANT. Thou unrelenting past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. h ar in thy realm, withdrawn, Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, And glorious ages, gone, Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth,manhood, age thht draws us to the ground, And last, man's life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. Thou hast my better years— Thou hast my earlier friends, the good, the kind, Yielded to thee with teats— The venerable form—the exalted mind. My spirit yearns to bring The lost ones back—yearns with desire intense And struggles hard to wring Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence. In vain—thy gates deny All passage, save to those who hence depart; Nor to the streaming eye Thou giv’st them back—nor to the broken heart. In thy abysses hide Beauty and excellence unknown—to thee Earth's wonder and her pride Are gathered, as the waters by the sea; Labors of good to man, Unpublished charity, unbroken faith— Love, that ’midst Grief began. And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unutter'd, unrevered; With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappear'd. Thine for a space are they— Yet shall thou yield thy treasures up at last, Thy gates shall yet give way— Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable past! All that of good and fair Has gone into thy womb from earliest time, Shall then come forth, to wear The glory and the beauty of its prime.l They have not perish'd—no! Kind words, remember'd voices once so sweet, Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul’s apparent seat; All shall come back, each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall evil die, And sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I spring, And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave—the beautiful and young. An Indian Execution In Michigan. The Clinton county (Mich.) Express pub lishes the following, and vouches for its au thenticity. It is certainly a curious history: In differcnf parts of Central Michigan there are two tribes of Indians, theUttawas and Chippewas. They are friendly to each other, and during the hunting season, fre quently encamp near each other. In the fall of 18f»3, a party of one tribe built their cabins on the banks of Maple river, and a party of the other tribe, about eighty in number, encamped in what is now the town of Dallas. It is unnecessary to speak of their life in these camps—suffice it to say that the days were spent in hunting, and the nights in drinking “fire water” and ca rousing. In one of the revels at the camp on Maple river, an Indian, maddened by liquor, killed his squaw, and to conceal the deed threw her body upon the fire. Recovering from the stupor of the revel, he saw the signs of his guilt before him, and fearing the wrath of his tribe, he fled to wards the other encampment. His absence was noticed—the charred remains of the poor squaw were found, and the cry for blood was raised. The avengers were soon upon his track—they pursued him to the encampment of their neighbors—he was found, apprehended, and in solemn council doomed to the death which, in the stern old Indian code, is reserved for those only who shed the blood of their kin. It was a slow, torturing, cruel death. A hatchet was put in the victim’s hands, he was led to a largo log that was hollow, and made to assist in fixing it for his coffin.— This was done by cutting into it some dis tance on the top, in two places about the length of a man apart, then slabbing off, and digging the hollow until larger, so as to admit his body. This done, he was ta ken back and tied fast to a tree. Then they smoked and drank the “fire water,” and when evening came, they kindled large fires around him, at some distance off, but so that they would shine full upon him. And now commenced the orgies—they drank to intoxication—they danced and sang in their wild Indian manner, chanting the "dirge of the recreant brave. The arrow was fitted to the bowstring, and ever and anon with its shrill twang it sent a missile into the quivering flesh of the homicide; and to heighten his misery they cut off his ears and nose. Alternately drinking, dancing, bcatin'r then rude di urns and shooting their arrows into the victim, the night passed. The next day’ was spent in sleepin rr and eating, the victim meanwhile still bound to the tree. IV hat his reflections were we of course cannot tell, but he bore his punish ment as a warrior should. When night \vas close around it brought his executiouers to their work again. The scene of the first night w’as re-enacted, and so it was the next night, and the next, and the next, and so on for a week. Seven lone and weary days did he stand there tortured with the most cruel torture, before his proud head droopod upon his breast, and his spirit left its clayey tenement for the hunting grounds of the Great Spirit. And when it did they took the body, wrapped it in a new clean blanket, and placed it in the log coffin he had helped to hollow. They put his hunting knife by his side that he might have something to defend himself on the way, his whisky bottle that he might cheer his spirits with a draught now and then, and his tobacco and pipe, that he might smoke. Then they put on the cover, drove down stakes each side of the log, and filled up between them with logs and brush. The murdered squaw was avenged. The camp was broken up, and the old stillness and quiet once more reigned over the forest spot where was consummated this signal act of retributive justice. Our informant has visited the spot often since then; the log is still there with its cover on; and beneath may still be seen the skeleton of the victim. Let no Che-mo-ke-mum call this a deed of barbarity. It was an act of simple jus tice; there was a double murder it is true, but the pale face who sold the lire water that crazed the poor victim and caused him to shed the blood of his squaw has them to answer for in the day of final reckoning. Milcc Finch and the Hull. The story of Mike Thick and the bull would make a cynic laugh. Mike took a notion to go iu swimming, and he had just got_ his clothes off when he saw Deacon Smith’s bull making at him—the bull was a vicious animal, and had come near killing two or three persons—Mike felt rather “jubus.” He didn't want to call; for he was naked, and the nearest place from whence assistance could arrive was the meeting house, which was at the time filled with worshippers, among whom was the “gal Mike was paying his devours to.” So he dodged the bull as the animal came at him, and managed to catch him by the tail.— He was dragged round till he was nearly dead, and when ho could hold no longer, he made up his mind he had better “holler.” And now we will let him tell his own story. So looking at the matter in all its bear ing. I cum to the conclusion I'd better let some one know whar I was. So I gin a yell Ipuder than a locomotive whistle, and it warn’t long before I seed the Deacon’s two dogs a coming down as if they war see ing which could get thar first. T knowed who they were arter—they’d jine the bull agin me, I was sartin, for they were orful wenomous and had a spite agin me. So says I, old brindlc, as ridin’ is as cheap as walkin’, I’ll just take a deck passage on that ar back o’ youru. So I wasn’t very long getting astride of him; then, if you’d been thar, you’d have sworn thar warn’t nothin’ human in that ar mix, the silo flew so orfuily as the critter and I rolled round the field—one dog on one side and one the other tryin’ to clinch my feet. I prayed and cussed, and cussed and prayed, until I couldn't tell which I did last —and neither waru't of no use, they were so orfuily mix ed up. Well, I reckon I rid about half an hour this way, when old brindle thought it were time to stop to take iu a supply of wind, and cool off a little. So when we got round to a tree that stood round thar, he natural ly halted. So sez I, old boy, you’ll loose one passenger sartin. So I jist clum up a branch, kalkelatin’ to roost thar till I starv ed afore I'd be rid round that away any longer. I war a makin’ tracks for the top of the tree, when I heard suthin’ a makin' an orful buzzin’ overhead. I kinder looked up, and if thar warn’t—well, thar's no use a swearhT—but it war the biggest hornet's nest ever bilt. You'll “gin in” now, 1 reck on, Mike, ’cause thar’s no help for you. But an idea struck me then that 1 stood a heap Defter chance a ridin’ flic bull than whar 1 was. Sez 1, old feller, if you'll hold on, I'll ride to the next station, anyhow, let that be whar it will. So I jist dropped aboard him agin, and looked aloft to see what 1 had gained by changin’ quarters, and gentlemen, I'm a liar if thar warn’t nigh half a bushel of the stingin’ varmints ready to pitch into me whenjthe word “go” was gin. Well, I reck on they got it, for “all hands” started for our company. Some on 'em hit the dogs; about a quart struck me, aud the rest char ged ou brindlc. This time dogs led off first, dead bent for old deacon's and as soon as old brindle and I could get under way we followed, and as I was only a deck passenger, and nothin’ to do with steerin’ the craft; I sware if I had, we shouldn t have run that channel any how. But, as I said before, the dogs took the lead—brindle and 1 next, and the hor nets dre’kly arter. The dogs yellin'—brin dle bellcrin’, and the hornets buzzin’ and stingin’. Well, we had got about two hundred yards from the house, and the deacon heard us and cum out. I seed him hold up his hand and turn white. I reckoned he was prayin’ then, for he didn’t expect to be call ed so soon, and it waru’t long neither afore the whole congregation—men, women aud children—cum out, and then all hands went to yellin’. None of ’em had the fust notion that brindle and I belonged to this world. I jist turned my head aud passed the hull congregation. I see the run would soon be up, for brindle couldn't turn an inch from a fence that stood dead ahead. Well, we reached that fence, aud J went ashore over the whole critter’s head, laudin’ ou t'other side, and lay there stunned. It warn’t long afore some of ’em as was not scared, cum runnin’ to see what I war; for all hands kalkelated that the bull and I belonged together. But when brindle walk ed off by himself, they seed how it war, and one of said, “Mike Thick has the wus of a scrimmage once in his life!” Gentlemen, from that day I dropped the courtin’ busi ness, and never spoke to a gal siueo, and when my hunt is up ou this yearth, there won’t be any more Tincks.and it's all owin’ to Deacon Smith’s brindle bull. Hoppy as a Clam A cheerful temper is a natural gift, the desirability of which cannot be questioned, but seldom do w c meet with a spirit so thor oughly saturated with good nature that no disappointment, no poverty, deprivation or combination of adverse circumstances can break it down or overcome its geniality. Bat yesterday morning a man made his ap pearance before Justice Brennan, who seemed to have a perfect fountain of undilu ted contentment somewhere in his composi tion, which no depressing influences of care or accident had been able to exhaust or adulterate—a typo, a modern edition of Mark Tapley—a human barrel of jolliness without hoops ou. lie was arrested for be ing intoxicated. He gave his name as Get typhat Take, and said he was a printer and hailed from “The Gem of Science’' office.- He is a short man, of a beer-cask figure, und a face as rubicund as if he slept in a room with 'f ed curtains. His answers to the questions of the authorities showed his contentment under all shades of fortune.— The Justice being also in a genial humor was inclined to banter the disiple of Hen Franklin und accordingly addressed him as follows: Judge—Well, Mr. Take, it seems you have thrown aside the “composing stick,” and gone to getting drunk for a living. I’m afraid you’re a “bad case,” and stand in need of “correcting.” 1 think I shall send you to “quod.” These technicalities, which were uttered in a sort of you-see-I-know-your trade-as well-as-you-do air, seemed to give Mr. Take that assurance which printers seldom lack, but of which the solemnities of a police court might have temporarily deprived him, and he answered: Prisoner—Well, at any rate, Pm‘glad we’ve no “galleys” in this country, or 1 suppose yo'd put me there, and well “leaded” at that. But bless you, sir, goiug to jail’s nothing; the last time I was there I tamed a rat and taught him to chew tobacco, be side inventing three new steps for a fancy hornpipe—it’s a good deal better than set ting “solid minion,” more than three quar ters “figure-work,” and getting only a “price and a half ” for it; Lord bless you, Squire, I’d a great deal rather go to jail ten days than not. I've got sick of work just now, and I'll have a chance to get the bile off my stomach.” J seem to take it easy; how do you propose to employ your time this trip? Prisoner—M ell, Corporal, I’m undecided whether I'll learn to whistle the opera of the “Bohemian Girl,” practice standing on my head, or undertake to acquire the ele gant accomplishment of balancing straws on my nose; if I could get a cat, I d teach her to play the fiddle, if I thought the strings wouldn’t remind her unpleasantly of the in testinal discords, after her feline body had been nine times slain. Judge—Mr. Take, you seem particularly happy under the circumstances; have you got a wife? Prisoner—Xot now. Lieutenant: I had one, but she run off with a bow-legged cob ler; I was so glad about it that I sent her her dresses and a quit-claim deed of her person, which I signed in capital letters; she left mo one boy—but he was a “foul copy*’ not a bit like me; I bound him ’pren tice to the type-sticking trade, but the Qrst day he quarreled with the regular “devil,” tipped over the “bank,” pulled a “form” off the “imposing stone,” and “pied” five “col umns;” he dropped the “shooting-stick” into the “alligator press,” and in the evening he and another hopeful boy were caught re hearsing a broadsword-combat with a cou ple of “column rules;” the “foreman” “bat tered” him with the “mallet,” and when he got home to mo he had a “fancy head,” if there ever was one. Clerk—Where is he now? Prisoner—He ran away with a circus, and the last 1 saw of him he was in the mid dle of a sawdust ring trying to tie his legs in a bow-knot round his neck; I’ve been jollier since then than ever before. Judge—You seem to be always jolly. Prisoner-—Bo I am; I laughed when my father turned me out of doors at eleven years old, laughed when I broke my arm, and made funny faces at the doctor when ho was setting it; the happiest day I ever spent was one time when I hadn’t but one shirt and a pair of pants to put on, had spent all my money, and gone hungry forty hours. I never was really unhappy but once in my life, and that was when I fell down stairs, fractured my collar-bone, and skinned my leg so badly 1 couldn't get down on my knees to thank God I hadn't broken my neck. The Judge relented, and let Mr. Take go, and that rotund individual loft the room trying to whistle and sing at the same time, and also dance an independent jig with each leg to a different tune. Change for Market. — ‘My dear,’ said an affectionate wife, ‘what shall we have for dinner to-day?’ ‘One of your smiles,’ replied the husband, ‘1 can dine on that every day.’ Jfut 1 can’t,’ replied the wife. ‘Then take this !’ and he gave her a kiss and left. lie returned to dinner. ‘This is excellent steak,’ said he—‘what did you pay for it?’ ‘W by, what you gave me this morning, said his wife. ‘The deuce you did !’ exclaimed he; then you shall have the money next time you go to market. Curiosity.— Looking over other people's affairs, and overlooking oar own. Stieing tile Ele}<hanf, The origin of this now common and ex pressive phrase is thus described in one of ear exchanges: Some years since at one of the Philadel phia theaters, a pageant was in rehearsal in which it was necessary to have an elephant. No elephant was to be had. The ‘wild beasts’ were all traveling, and the property man. stage director and manager, almost had Ills when they thought of it. Days passed in the hopeless task of endeavoring to secure one, but at last Yankee ingenuity triumphed, as, indeed, it always does: and an elephant was duly made to order, of wood, skins, paint and varnish. Thus far the matter was all well, but as yet they had found no means to make the said combina tion travel. Here, again, the genius of the manager, stage director and property man ‘stuck out,’ and two of the ‘supes’ were duly installed as legs. Ned C- , one of the true and genuine ‘b’hoys,’ held the responsi blostation o\fore-legs, and for several nights he played that heavy part to the entire sat isfaction of the manager, and the delight of the audience. The part, however, was a very tedious one, as the elephant was obliged to be on the stage for about an hour, and Ned was rather too fond of the bottle to remain so lung without ‘wetting his whistle,’ so he set his wits to work to find a way to carry a ‘wee drop’ with him. The eyes of the elephaus being made of two porter bottles, with the necks in, Ned con ceived the brilliant idea of tilling them with •good stuff.’ This he fully carried out, and elated with his success, willingly undertook to play tli a fore-legs again. Night came; the theater was crowded with the denizens of the Quaker city, the music played its sweetest strains, the" whis tle sounded, the curtain rose, and the play began. Nod and the hind legs marched upon the stage. The elephant was greeted with round upon round of applause. The decorations, the trappings were gorgeous— the Prince seated on his elephant was marched round and round the stage. The fore legs got dry. and withdrew one of the corks, treated the kind legs, and drank the health of the audience in a bumper of gen uine elephant eye whiskey, a brand, by the way. till then unknown. On went the play —on went Ned drinking. The concluding march was to be made—the signal was giv en, and the fore legs staggered upon the stage. The conductor pulled the ear of the elephant to the right—the fore legs stag gered to the left—the foot-lights obstructed his way—he raised his feet and stepped— plump into the orchestra! Down went fore legs on the leader’s fiddle—over of course turned the elephant, sending the prince, closely followed by the hind legs, into the middle of the pit. The manager stood hor ror struck—the prince and hind legs lay confounded—the boxes in convulsions, the actors choking with laughter. And poor Ned casting one look, a strange blending of drunkenness, grief and laughter, at the scene, tied hastily out of the theater, closely followed by the leader with the wreck of his fiddle, performing various cut and thrust motions in the air. Imagine the scene— paint it for me, some one, if you can. The result, reader, can you not picture it? The curtain dropped on a ‘scene from behind the scenes!” No more pageant— no more fore legs, but everybody holding their sides, music, actors, gallery and bexes rushed from the theater, shrieking between every breath, ‘ Have you seen the elephant?’ Tlie Varnith Tree. The very best Japan varnish is prepared from the rus vernicifera of Japan, which prows in great abundance in many parts of that country, and is likewise cultivated in many places on account of the great advan tages derived from it. This varnish, which oozes out of the tree on being wounded, is procured from stems that are three years old. and is received in some proper vessel. At first sight it is of a lightish color, and of the consistence of cream, but grows thick er and black on being exposed to the air.— It is so transparent when laid pure and un mixed upon boxes or furniture, that every vein of the wood may be seen. For the most part a dark ground is spread under neath it, which causes it to reflect like a mirror; and for this purpose recourse is fre quently had to the tine sludge, which is got in the trough under a grindstone, or to ground charcoal; occasionally a red sub stance is mixed with the varnish, and some times gold leaf ground very line. This varnish hardens very much, but will not endure any blows, cracking and flying almost like glass though it can stand boiling -water without any damage. W itli this the Japanese varnish over the posts of their doors, and most articles of furniture which are made of wood. It far exceeds the Chi nese and Siamese varnish, and the best is collected about the town of Jassino. It is cleared from impurities by wringing it through very fine paper; then about a hun dredth part of an oil called toi, which is ex pressed from the fruit of hignonia tomentosa is added to it, and being put into wooden vessels, either alone or mixed with native cinnabar, or some black substance, it is sold all over Japan. The expressed oil of the seeds serves for candles. The tree is said to be equally poisonous as the rims ve nenata, or American poison tree, commonly called swamp sumach. JKaP'An Irishman on arriving in Ameri ca, took a fancy to the Yankee girls, and wrote to his wife as follows: Dear Nora—These melancholy lines are to inform you that I died yesterday, and 1 hope you are enjoying the same blessing.— I recommend for you to marry Jemmy O’- Rourke. and take good care of the children. From your affectionate husband till death. A Patent Reaper. The Detroit Advertiser tells of a team of bright bay live year old mares, fourteen hands high, long* low built, sturdy,tough, strong and smooth, recently matched by S. I’. W- ,of Calhoun county, Michigan, for farm service. A better team never set tled a mould board into green-sward. W. had sixty-five acres of noble wheat, and ho bad purchased a new McCormick’s reaper, to which in the pride of his heart he hitched the mares, scorning to disgrace his fine crop and new reaper by contact with anything in the shape of horse-llesh poorer than his very best. The marcs were harnessed to the ‘machine,’ a raw Dutchman who had never seen a reaper was put on to drive, and away they went. At the first revolu tion of the big reel, which they saw over their blinders, they became impressed with the idea they were bound ‘to run wid de masheen,’ and sure enough they did, through the big wheat-field, in all possible zig-zag directions, cutting some, breaking down the balance, and scattering the grain far and wide behind them. The Dutchman clung to his seat for a while, yelling ‘wo !’ in nine teen different dialects, until the truck of the reaper struck a stone, whereat he bounded some ten feet into the air, describing a par abolic curve, with a radius of inconvenient length,and finally brought up, hull down, in the middle of the field. The mares kept on as though Ceres had hired Bacchus for a car-driver, and was bent on a bust—tho machinery rattling, the great wheel revolv ing with fierce velocity, and the knives gnashing away at the grain like the teeth of a madman, until the breaking of a swin gletree ended over the machine, and the marcs streaked it for the barn, where they remained at last accounts. The next day, six remarkably old-fashioned cradles were observed at -work in that wheat field, and a notice headed “Patent Reaper for sale,” was to be seen posted on the front gate I Uniionored Heroes.— When I see a man holding faster his uprightness in proportion as it is assailed; fortifying his religious trust in proportion as Providence is obscure; ho ping in the ultimate triumphs of virtue more surely in proportion to its present af flictions ; cherishing philanthropy amidst the discouraging experience of men’s uu kiudness and unthankfulness; extending to others a sympathy which his own sufferings need, but cannot obtain; growing milder and gentler amidst what tends to exasper ate and harden; and, through inward prin ciple, converting the very incitements to evil into the occasions of a virtue; 1 see an explanation, and a noble explanation, of tho present state. 1 see a good production, so transcendant in its nature as to justify all the evil and suffering under which it grows up. I should think the formation of a few such minds worth all the apparatus of the world. I should say that this earth, with its continents and oceans, its seasons and harvests, and its successive generations, was a work worthy of God, even were it to accomplish no other end than the training and manifestation of the illustrious charac ters which are scattered through history.— And when I consider how small a portion of human virtue is recorded by history, how superior in dignity, as well as in number, are the unnoticed, unhonored saints and he roes of domestic and humble life, I see a light thrown over the present state which more than reconciles me to its evils.— [Channing. Ax Accomplished Blind Man.— The Journal of Chartres gives an account of a water-mill, in the hamlet of Olsleme, near Chartres, built entirely by a blind man, without cither assistance or advice from any one. The masonry, carpenter's work, roofing, stairs, paddle-wheel, cogs,in a word, all the machinery pertaining to the mill, has been made, put up, and set in motion by him alone. He has also, the above jour nal assorts, made his own furniture. When the water is low. and the mill does not work, our blind miller becomes a joiner aud also a turner, on a lathe of his own inven tion. aud so he makes ail manner of uten sils, and pretty toy wind-mills for the juve niles. He lives quite alone, sweeps his own room; his mother, who has fifteen children to care for, lives a mile off, and does not trouble her head about ‘her blind boy,’ for ‘he earns his bread now,’ she says, ‘and docs not want her.’ In 1852 this blind miller was rewarded with a medal by the agricul tural society of the arrondissement, lor a machine serving the double purpose of win nowing corn and separating the beat grains from the common sort. A Lady’s Opinion. —The meanest and most contemptible of mankind may yet find some human advocate; and male coquettes have had, it seems, at least one defender. The poet Campbell says that he once heard a lady of distinguished beauty and rank defend Sir Thomas Lawrence from the charge ol having been guiltv of paying at tentions to ladies, without intending to fol low them up by an offer of his hand. A gentleman remarked that ho thought Sir Thomas was highly blaracable. ‘No,’replied the lady, who was said to have lieen herself the temporary object of the great painter’s attentions; no, not ex actly—not so much to blame,’ said the lady musingly. ‘What!’ exclaimed the gentleman—-‘you astonish me. Not to blame for such cou duct?’ , , ‘No, not so much,’ was still the lady a musing response. ‘Can you rcallv madam,’said the gentleman ao-ain, ‘defend such behavior as desertion—’ °‘ Why. sir, interrupted the lady, ‘to con fess the truth, I am firmly of opinion that the majority of women would rather be courted and jilted, that nyt courted at all!’ NO. G.